Assassin's Creed: A Brotherhood Divided
by AetherScribe
Summary: Follow the tale of Arther Gunn from his humble beginnings as a Scottish immigrant to the United States as he earns his hidden blades in a time when even the brotherhood cannot avoid infighting and secession, the American Civil War.


Assassin's Creed: A Brotherhood Divided

**Prologue**

Scotland, 1358

The night was close around the two men, hooded against the chill in the air. The small antechamber provided little protection from the usual conditions of the highlands, but they had little intention of staying there long. The chest which they were packing was nearly full, and they would soon be on their way. "Hamish, how can you be so sure you want to do this? You are a legend in the order; you were Wallace's right hand and our backbone after his execution. Without you we may not have survived through the wars, let alone maintained our relationship with the rest of the order when it came to blows with our English brothers. If you leave now, the brotherhood in Scotland could very well suffer in the same way that the core of the order did in those ancient stories, from when Altaír was banished. How can you rest your head at night knowing that we will be left in such chaos?"

"I understand your concern, Robert, but my time is done here." The agitation in his companion's voice was troublesome, but not unwarranted. Hamish continued the packing, and explained his motivation. "I am a war hero, not a peace keeper; we both saw that during the years between the wars. I am not content leading the order from a seat in the dusty lower chambers of loyal clan chieftains, if I can no longer keep up with our young men, then it is time that I retire and leave the order in the hands of someone more suited to that sort of leadership."

"More suited to leadership? Hamish, without your stern hand we will be left with anarchy. Who could possibly lead us through that? What kinds of ideas have you come up with that have driven you to this level of madness?"

The silver in Hamish's hair gleamed as he rose from the chest and removed his hood. He turned to his companion, handing him a key. "Take this key, Robert. I will leave instructions with my family, my descendants, about this old chest of mine. I will tell them that when one of them understands the secret of the chest, that they will find the key with the head of the Scottish order."

Hamish lifted the chest, pushed easily past his friend and strode out into the night. Robert closed his had around the key, the new symbol of the head of the Scottish order, as his friend's silhouette melted into the highland fog.

Scotland, 1855

Arther,

This old chest of mine has been passed through our family since the time our forefathers stood next to William Wallace, fighting for the freedom of Scotland. Since it first began to be passed through the generations, it has remained unopened. It comes to you now, with the instruction that it can be opened with the key that is held by a master in Scotland. It is also accompanied by a riddle, 'When nothing is true, a Gunn will discover his heritage and find that everything is permitted.' Perhaps you will have a better chance at discovering the secrets of our ancestors.

Aut Pax Aut Bellum,

Granda'

Scotland, 1861

The sun shone off the water, casting a myriad of lights off the red sails. The ship bobbed in the water as it floated at port in Wick. A small family of puffins trotted back and forth along the small, rocky beach as squabbled over some small fish. It seemed like the start of a fairy tale as Arther prepared to board The Dealrach Fíreun; the wind was perfect, the seas were calm, and this ship was to set sail for a distant coast.

"I still don't get it. What does Dealrach Fíreun even mean?" Even without seeing her, it was not difficult to determine that Kathrein MacBride had come to see him off, despite his disapproval.

"I've told you, Kathrein, it's old Gaelic for 'shining eagle'. It probably means the eagles that you see around the area, or perhaps the one perched over the captain's cabin there." Arther turned to face his uninvited dispatch party. "What are you doing here, Kat? I told you not to come."

"Arther, how can you even begin to consider this an idea worth pursuing? What can you possibly do in America that you couldn't do here?"

"I have told you enough times already. With my family's fields being taken, there is hardly any room for me to stake claim on any of them, I would not take that chance from my brothers. Besides, this gives me the opportunity to leave and make my own way."

"I still don't like it. You'll leave and forget everything here. You won't even be a Scot anymore and it will be a shame because you were the finest piper this side of the Beauly!" She turned to face the ship, refusing to look at Arther again.

"Kat, you know that won't happen. You've been my closest friend since my granda' died, you know that I'll write to you. And look, my pipes are packed away right here. I'll be the envy of every shepherd around when I get my own fields!" Even showing her the glimmering golden inlays of his grandfather's pipes would not convince her to look away from the ship's broadside canons. "I suppose you'll have to believe me once my letters start showing up."

Arther gripped her shoulder as he turned to climb the gangplank. Looking back as he reached the deck, he saw little more than Kathrein's profile. He turned and headed below to his quarters as the captain shouted for the crew to raise the anchor and release the sails.

Kathrein's gaze slowly shifted, following the ship as it slid out of port. "You'll leave and forget _me_, here."


End file.
